


Theá

by MessengerAngeliaforos



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Drug Use, Everyone Survives The Battle of Sanctuary AU, Gen, Gratuitous Cursing By Deathmask, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Too Many Headcanons To Be Acceptable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessengerAngeliaforos/pseuds/MessengerAngeliaforos
Summary: Ever since he and the other Gold Saints who followed Saga barely survived the battle of Sanctuary, Pisces Aphrodite has been plagued with a strange dream of being sealed into a rose garden much like his own.   Deathmask insists that it's just a dream, but as a mysterious legend of the Olympian gods comes to light, Aphrodite finds himself questioning just what forces brought him to Sanctuary- and why he continues to remain.[This fic is abandoned and likely will not be updated again.]





	1. Prologue

Prologue

_ Dreams _

 

It was the same nightmare as every night- the one that caused him to awaken in a cold sweat, eyes wide and heart pounding a rhythm that could probably be heard all throughout Sanctuary.    He could never remember when he’d begun having it, only that lately, it had occurred far more often than in the past.   Sometimes, it even happened twice- after the first time he woke up shuddering and walked about the rose garden in order for the heady aroma to put him to sleep again, his mind would return him to that accursed, fearful place and the cycle would repeat as soon as his eyes closed.

He was standing in a temple, with what felt like a soft linen chiton blowing around his legs and a soft spring breeze stirring his hair.   A man, taller than he, dressed in battered gray armor, was holding his shoulder roughly to keep him in place.   He was large and powerful, and clearly seemed to be in charge.  Far off, another man- this one slighter, with a crooked form and homely features- was leaning on a twisted cane and making a steadfast effort not to look him in the eyes.

A voice boomed out from above him and as usual, he felt the larger man behind him force his head down, leaving him unable to see the source of the voice.   Try as he might, he could never understand what the man was saying- it was Ancient Greek, and even Sanctuary spoke Modern Greek now.  Some of the Saints who had been born in Greece still understood the ancient language- Saga, most likely, and Aiolos while he’d been still alive- but he had no knowledge of it.   If the mysterious booming voice had spoken Swedish, he’d bitterly think to himself after he awakened, he would understand every word.   Somehow, his inability to understand exactly what was being said made the situation seem more ominous- whatever this decree in Greek was, it seemed to decide his fate.   After the booming voice whose source he could not see had spoken its piece, the more muscular man dragged him away.   Amazingly, he was powerless to resist- it felt as though his cosmos had been hidden away somehow and thus he could not retaliate.

The muscular man would drag him roughly down many flights of stairs, seemingly without end- more stairs even than Sanctuary.    Some nights this journey seemed to last for hours, others it was over fairly quickly.   The only thing that was certain was the final destination- a rose garden, similar to the one he called home but considerably more overgrown and without a temple in sight.   The man would toss him down there and without even looking back, exit the garden and bar a pair of heavy iron gates.    He could only watch this occur, watch himself be sealed in with the roses.   

At this point, he would either wake up or it would take a moment or two of wandering the rose garden to prompt him to do so.    What frightened him most about the dream was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a coherent meaning in it.    Neither the muscular man nor the man with the crooked body were familiar faces, and the booming voice certainly wasn’t one he’d heard before either.    It was all mysterious, and yet something about the events within it seemed somehow life-changing, important- as though he  _ should  _ have known who the two men and the voice were, and what was happening, as though it was something he’d forgotten.

The Gold Saint Pisces Aphrodite stared into his own fearful eyes in the bathroom mirror, clenching the edges of the sink as he racked his brain for answers that didn’t seem forthcoming.

_ What does it mean? _

_ And why does it terrify me so? _


	2. Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aphrodite awakens from the mysterious dream to find Deathmask in his temple, seeking both companionship and food.

One

 

“Jannik!  Get up,  _ stronzo _ \- you’ll never finish your makeup and get ready before the good cafés close at this rate!”

Aphrodite rolled over in bed and covered his ears with a pillow at the sound of his fellow Gold Saint, Cancer Deathmask’s voice.    _ I woke up at three A.M. because of that dream and spent another hour trying to fall asleep again.   Of course, that doesn’t matter to Damiano- he’s never been very good at being patient, or rousing me later than six o’clock sharp.   We have a tradition of going into the city to get coffee and whatever breakfast might be found every Saturday morning- it keeps him from getting drunk too early.    We try to find places that aren’t too full and will give us our privacy- I am poisonous after all, and with Athena watching us so closely after the battle of Sanctuary, killing locals might get us a very steep punishment indeed.   Goddess knows we’ve already lost our Cloths for it.    _

The battle of Sanctuary had only taken place a few months before, with the reincarnation of Athena and her five bronze Saints retaking the ancient stronghold from Saga’s control.    Through the grace of the goddess, Aphrodite had survived the barrage of Andromeda Shun’s chain, and Deathmask- albeit nearly naked, he thought with an edge of mischief- had managed to claw himself out of the Yomotsu Hirasaka.    _  Athena chose to show those who betrayed her mercy and give us a second chance.   However, we can no longer walk beside her as Gold Saints- the Cloths of Gemini, Capricorn, Cancer, and Pisces remain without wearers.    Aquarius might as well be- Camus stayed long enough to be pardoned before disappearing to Siberia in order to “collect his thoughts” or whatever it was he said before dashing off.   Damiano, Shura, and I are all varying degrees of injured, and Saga appears to be comatose and unresponsive.    We’re quite a sorry bunch- hardly worthy of a Bronze Cloth to share between us. _

“Jannik!   What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing in there?!”

A well-tanned hand with long, calloused fingers appeared on the windowsill, followed closely by another.   With much grunting and grimacing, Deathmask heaved himself through the open window and into the room.   _ Damiano’s far from the most well-muscled Saint in Sanctuary, but he’s wiry and has always been good at climbing things.   If not for that, he might not have survived his fight with Dragon Shiryu.  Even injured like this, he managed to scale the wall of my temple- although I suspect he got much of his energy to do it from pure spite.  _   Clutching his side where Aphrodite knew that many bruises and perhaps a broken rib were no doubt paining him, the former Pisces Saint’s best friend fixed him with a withering glare.

“I’m beginning to think you just like pissing me off.”

Aphrodite pushed his curly hair out of his face, noting that the cyan dye was beginning to fade to his natural platinum blonde.  “Good morning to you too, Damiano.”    _ It’s a tradition for those who become Gold Saints to change their names, symbolizing how we shed our old lives in order to serve Athena with total focus and dedication.   But we’ve called each other by our real first names ever since we told each other what they were- his chosen name is frankly ridiculous and for some reason, he always though Jannik suited me better than Aphrodite.   I’m not sure why I chose Aphrodite myself.   It just came to me and seemed to fit.    Damiano, on the other hand, chose something that he thought made him sound threatening, which is why he’s saddled with such a moniker as Cancer Deathmask. _

Deathmask sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back and lighting a cigarette.   _  I wish he wouldn’t smoke so much, it’s bad for him, me, and the roses too.   But here in Greece, it seems like everyone does it- many of the other Gold Saints do and he’d had the habit since before I met him.  _  “Let me guess- the dream again?”

Aphrodite nodded, sighing.  “I don’t suppose you’ve thought of what it might mean.”   He’d discussed the particulars of the dream with Deathmask innumerable times, but they'd had no luck in deciphering the meaning.

“Godsdammit, Jannik.  Let it go already.”   Deathmask blew a stream of smoke, rocking the cigarette in between his fingers.   “It’s just a weird dream, probably from the stress.    That kid in the pink armor fucked you up pretty bad, after all.   You sure he didn’t hit you in the head with those chains?”

Aphrodite rolled his eyes.  “I  _ told _ you, I was having the dream before the battle of Sanctuary.    If I keep having it, then it’s got to be important.”

“If you keep having it, all that means is that you aren’t drinking enough before you go to bed,” Deathmask retorted, a lazy smirk spreading across his rough features.   “Or possibly, you’re drinking too much and not sharing it with your only friend, a certain strikingly handsome Cancer I could name.   In that case, it’s like Blondie over in the Virgo Temple says- karma’s getting you and you’d better give me some of the good stuff before you start dreaming of something a little scarier than a rose garden.”   He laughed hoarsely at his own joke, leaning back on the bed.  “Come on, lighten up.   It’s nothing, I’m sure of it.”

_ Maybe he’s right, maybe it is nothing- I can’t pretend that I haven’t been under a lot of strain lately, physically and mentally.   For all I know, I’m grasping at straws and chasing smoke.   Best to just stop thinking about it.    _  “Alright, alright.   Where do you want to go for breakfast?”

“That’s better.   I think I know a cafe that isn’t too packed at this hour.”   He stood up from the bed and picked up Aphrodite’s makeup case from the dresser, tossing it to him.   “Pretty yourself up and let’s go.   I’ll be downstairs.”

_ Downstairs looking for alcohol no doubt.   Lately, he’s been drinking a lot, even more than usual.   And I know why- although he says the loss of the Cancer Cloth doesn’t affect him, the fact that his armor no longer responds to him at all is a serious blow.   Saga, Shura, and I willingly relinquished our Cloths as a part of the bargain with Athena, but with the understanding that if a threat came before successors were found for us, we would be called to wear them again.   Damiano doesn’t have that option.   Even though he often abused his position, his Gold Cloth and being a Saint was important to him, in his own way.   It gave him a purpose.   Without that purpose, that direction, I confess I worry what he might do. _

Aphrodite set about brushing his hair into something presentable and doing his makeup.    _ When we were children, the others used to laugh that a male apprentice chose to wear mascara, lipstick, and eyeliner.  I paid them no mind- it’s how I choose to express myself and I don’t really care what they think about it.   I do like to look my best, and apply makeup is relaxing for me.  Besides, I’ve managed to build a fearsome reputation for myself and since then, no one has questioned my decisions regarding how I present myself. _

Finishing the beauty routine, he turned his attention to a much less pleasant activity- changing his bandages.    _ The healers of Sanctuary have always been under express orders not to touch a Pisces Saint if they can help it.    If they were to try to change my bandages themselves, they’d be putting their own lives at risk.    Basic medical training was a part of what I learned as the student of my predecessor anyway as no one else can treat us but someone with a natural immunity to our poison, and those very rarely come along.   When they do, they’re usually whisked into training as a future Pisces Saint immediately anyway- there’d be no opportunity for one to become a healer. _

He rolled up the edge of his shirt, wrinkling his nose at the smell of dried blood and slightly wilted roses that drifted out from his wounds.    _  Disgusting.    I’m a Gold Saint so naturally I’ve seen my share of blood, but I’ve never gotten used to the smell.     _ Aphrodite gingerly unwrapped the used bandages, tossing them aside onto the floor.   The scars and bruises underneath them weren’t looking much better- and they still twinged painfully whenever he moved.    _  Who would have thought that little Andromeda Saint had it in him?   We very nearly killed each other.   If rumors can be believed, he’s unable to fight at this time due to my Bloody Rose.   Apparently it did manage to hit him before I dropped unconscious.    _ While he knew for a fact that some of the Gold Saints were studiously avoiding encounters with the young Bronze Saints whom they’d fought-  _ like Camus, running off to Siberia _ \- Aphrodite had seen no reason to either seek out or outright avoid Andromeda Shun.    _ He was an opponent, nothing more.   We each did what we had to do for what we believed, and I was defeated.   There’s nothing else to say between us, no grudges to hold.   I wish I could say the same for Damiano and Shiryu, but then again, Damiano lost more in that fight than I did against Shun.   Shun injured my body and bruised my pride, but Shiryu stripped Damiano of his status.   That’s something much harder to reconcile. _

Aphrodite redressed the last of his wounds with the new bandages, dressed, and, throwing a last quick glance around the bedroom to ensure nothing had been forgotten, headed downstairs.   Deathmask was exactly where he’d expected him to be- lounging on the marble floor nursing the last of his cigarette and staring out at the rose garden.    _  He’s spent so much time here that I begin to think he’d built up a tolerance to being in close proximity with the poison at least.   However, I don’t think he could walk in the rose garden for long before fainting- or worse.   There’s no sense in taking that kind of a chance. _

“Ready to go?”

Deathmask got up from the floor, but not before putting out the cigarette and grinding it beneath his boot.    _ Ugh.  I’ll have to clean that up.    _ “Yeah.   Let’s go get some food, my stomach is talking to me.   I missed dinner last night.”

_ Again?  He really hasn’t been eating properly.    _ “You’ve got to stop that.”

Deathmask rolled his eyes.  “You’re not my mother, Jannik, stop trying to act like it.”

“Maybe not, but I  _ am  _ your friend.”   Aphrodite crossed his arms.  “You’re going to starve yourself if you keep this up, Damiano.”

The former Cancer Saint shoved him playfully.   “Don’t be so serious- I just forgot is all.   But if you’re so damn worried, come to my temple and I’ll make us something.   My treat.”  

_ Surprisingly, he’s a decent cook.   Although sometimes his culinary strategies look like he’s trying to burn down the kitchen in the most flamboyant way possible, the results are fairly tasty.  Besides, this gives me an excuse to check up on him later.    _ “I’ll hold you to it.”

They continued the bickering all the way down the stairs from the Pisces Temple, and Aphrodite began to put the dream out of his mind.    _ Maybe it really doesn’t mean anything- for all I know, I’m just fixating on it and trying to find meaning where there is none.   At the very least, I can forget about it for a little while and enjoy some time with Deathmask. _

\--

The figure slipped back into the shadows as the two Saints passed, hiding himself from view by pressing his crooked back against the column.    His eyes followed them as they continued on, unaware of his presence.

“...Jannik.   So now you’re called Jannik.”


	3. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aphrodite and Deathmask have a strange encounter with a flower-seller who seems to be not only interested in but familiar with the former Pisces Saint.

Two

 

The cafe was beginning to fill up by the time Aphrodite and Deathmask arrived, more so than they were accustomed to.     _ We normally arrive earlier than this, but I slept late because of the dream and now it looks like we’re catching the beginning of the breakfast rush.    _

“Fuck,” Deathmask muttered, eyes sweeping across the sea of tourists and couples dreamily gazing at each other over their coffee.   “Do you wanna go somewhere else?”

_ He’s talking about being bothered by crowds, but I’ve got other things to worry about.    _ Aphrodite fingered his bandaged side gingerly, the light tough causing the aroma of roses and blood to waft up from the wound.     _ From what I’ve read in the journals of previous Pisces Saints, my blood is far from the most poisonous we’ve ever had.    In a way, I have it easy.   But still, walking around so close to non-Saints with an open wound is asking for trouble.   I don’t want to take any chances. _

“At this hour, everywhere’s going to be like this.”  Aphrodite sighed.    “Let’s just take a walk and see if we can find something we can take to go.”

Deathmask pressed close to him, whispering in his ear with a hint of mischief.  “You know I could always thin the crowd a bit.   The sekishiki meikai ha might be a bit too obtrusive, but I have other ways.”   Inside his friend’s battered leather jacket, Aphrodite thought he saw something glinting.    _ A knife.  Of course.   Saints are forbidden from carrying weapons- we never need them with our cosmos being what it is- but seeing as we aren’t Saints anymore, I’m not surprised that he has something like that on hand.   Or that this is what he intends to use it for. _

The former Pisces Saint made a face.    _ He knows that with one false step he could be kicked out of Sanctuary for good, and killing civilians in order to get a place in a cafe is a bit more than a false step.  If he’s sent away, I don’t want to think about what he might do.   The worst part of it is that I can never tell when he’s joking.    _ “We don’t have the protection of our status as Saints anymore, you know.   If you go around murdering people with reckless abandon, you’re going to prison- or worse.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” Deathmask muttered sullenly, kicking a rock as they set off walking down the road.    “Back when we still had our Cloths, you would have agreed to it.”

“Back when we still had our Cloths, our ties to Sanctuary made us untouchable.   That’s not true anymore.   Nowadays, we have to be more careful.”    _ Sanctuary has been an institution here in Greece since ancient times, and the Saints who live and work there have a kind of unofficial immunity.   It’s an unspoken understanding with the authorities here that our actions are not to be investigated into since even though most people don’t believe in the Olympian gods anymore, there’s still a healthy respect for those who act in the name of Athena.   Damiano and I abused those privileges left and right- well, it was more him than me but I went along and didn’t stop him most of the time- essentially giving ourselves free reign of the city.   If it wasn’t for Saga being Pope, we’d probably have lost our Cloths a lot sooner.      _

Deathmask’s expression hardened at the mention of their Cloths and fell silent, no doubt inwardly cursing the loss of his armor.     _ I know better than to think that he only misses the Cancer Cloth because of the freedom it gave him- we fought and we bled and yes, we even killed to become Gold Saints.    Even if he abused his status on a regular basis, he was still proud of it.    I don’t know much about Damiano’s past, but from what I do know, he came from almost nothing- he lived on the streets alone for as long as he could remember.    I don’t think he’s sentimental enough to consider Sanctuary his first real home, but I do know that to him, his Cloth symbolized him finally having something for himself, being respected instead of reviled as a beggar and a thief.    That being gone means he has to come to terms with the fact that he isn’t Cancer Deathmask anymore- and if he isn’t what is he? _

“Any news on Saga?” Aphrodite questioned, intent on changing the subject.    _ It’s too early in the morning for him to start drinking, and when we discuss how things used to be too much, that’s exactly what he does.    _

Deathmask shrugged noncommittally.   “Still comatose, not much to tell.   You’re the one who visits him more often anyway.   I’m not too broken up about it either way- when he’s not comatose, he’s not wandering the Gemini Temple without any pants on.”   He laughed, which wasn’t a very pleasant sound- sharp and harsh and a bit raspy.   “Saga was weird as fuck, but I’m sure he was a better Pope than Aiolos would’ve been.   We’d never have had any fun with head-in-the-clouds Mr. Perfect as our leader.   He’d probably have given us early bedtimes well into adulthood and called a Golden Round so we could talk about our feelings and hold hands.”

Aphrodite laughed in spite of himself at the image.   “Don’t let Aiolia or Shura hear you mocking him like that.”    _  Aiolia looks up to his brother a great deal, and Shura does too, even now after what happened.   Although Shura’s our friend, Damiano has never been particularly understanding of that… _

“I can handle the goat and the kitten just fine,” Deathmask replied brazenly.   “And anyway, they’re not here, so what does it matter?”

Aphrodite was about to reply when he was interrupted by a quiet, slightly accented voice from one of the shops to his left.

“Excuse me, sir?   This may seem forward, but may I offer you a rose?”

The former Gold Saint turned towards the source of the sound- an attractive man of about his age with dark skin and long hair braided into cornrows, which were spilling down over his shoulders.  _ Who is this?  I don’t think he lives in this part of the city- if he did, I’d have seen him before- and I think I’d remember if I had, someone so good-looking as him.  Yet for some reason, his face is strangely familiar…   _  The rose he was proffering was pretty enough, not as large or as vividly red as the ones that grew in the garden of the Pisces Temple, but still one of the lovelier non-poisonous varieties Aphrodite had seen.  

“How much are they?” he questioned.    _  The flower-sellers in this city are known for their tactics of offering their wares as a gift.    It would be foolish to give something like this away, and this is likely his only livelihood.   If it’s being offered, there’s most definitely a price. _

The man laughed.  “For you?  Nothing.   I simply noticed how beautiful you are and wished to compliment you with a flower.”

Conscious of Deathmask’s annoyed mutter of  _ oh, not this bullshit again _ , Aphrodite blushed.    _  It’s true, my appearance is complimented regularly, but not usually in the street by civilians offering me flowers… and normally, it doesn’t fluster me so much either.   What’s gotten into me?   _  “Oh… thank you.   That’s very kind…”

“You’re very welcome.”   He smiled warmly.   “I’ve only just come to Athens, if all the men here are as good-looking as you then I think I might enjoy myself.”

Deathmask rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and made gagging sounds at this.    _ Oh, Damiano…   _  Throwing his friend an exasperated look, Aphrodite gestured down the road.   “I have to go, we’re going to get breakfast.  But… thank you.   Will I-?”

“See you again?” he finished with another smile.  “I should hope so.  I think I’ve just found a reason to extend my stay in Athens for a bit longer anyway.   Enjoy your breakfast, Aphrodite.”

Feeling his cheeks flush again and unable to come up with any coherent response, Aphrodite turned and followed Deathmask down the road a bit more hurriedly than he’d intended.     The latter waited for him to catch up, arms crossed and expression skeptical.

“Friend of yours?”

He shook his head.   “No… I’ve never met him before in my life.   It was a complete surprise.”    _  And I probably made a complete ass of myself in the process. _

“Weird.”   Deathmask pulled out a cigarette and lit it.  “Then why does he know your name?”

_ That’s right… when I left, he called me Aphrodite.    _  “I don’t know… did you call me Aphrodite in front of him?  He might have just overhead it.”

Deathmask shook his head.  “No, not when he would have been within earshot.    Besides, I think that damn name is ridiculous, you know that- if he learned anything from listening to me, he would’ve called you Jannik.”

_ Strange… if he didn’t hear it from Deathmask, then how does he know it?    _  Aphrodite looked down at the rose, scanning it for anything that might be dangerous.    _ In our line of work, when you meet someone who seems to know a little too much about you, then you’re either in for something very, very good or a great deal of trouble.   Athena isn’t the only Olympian who’s reincarnated on this earth, and every one of the gods and goddesses has their own particular agenda.   If he is indeed an Olympian, I wonder what he’s trying to achieve?    _

Noticing his pensive expression, Deathmask slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders.   “Come on, it’s probably nothing.   You’re hungry, tired, and probably more on edge than usual because of that stupid dream.   Let’s just go eat.   In the end, he’s probably just a guy who thinks you’re cute and asked your name from someone in Sanctuary.”

_ He’s probably right- immediately assuming a godly conspiracy when a stranger gives me a flower isn’t like me.   There’s no need to be so jumpy, it’s innocent enough and he was good-looking.   Perhaps I might even pay him a visit again, who knows?  It’s best to just stop worrying.   _ “Alright,” he conceded.  “Let’s just go get some coffee and clear our heads.”

“Finally,” Deathmask exalted, “you’re talking sense.”

\----

Back at the flower shop, the man who had offered Aphrodite the rose was bundling more of his wares to sell to passersby when the sound of a cane against the pavement rang out a short distance behind him.

He didn’t look up at the noise, studiously continuing his work.  “I didn’t think you’d be here, Hephaestus.”

“I could say the same for you.”   The newcomer, a shorter man with far homelier features, leaned on his cane and scanned the racks of flowers pensively.   His stance seemed slightly crooked, with his shoulders at a diagonal from his hips and set slightly back.   An attempt to conceal this had been made with a long coat, but this was largely unsuccessful.   “What do you know about running a flower shop?”

“What do you know about courting someone beautiful?” came the almost teasing reply.  “Do you really think things will be any different this time?    _ He’s _ here too, and the Sea God.   Now that they know, they’re not going to back off so easily, and neither will I.”

Hephaestus shook his head.   “I simply wish to protect the one I love, nothing more.    You know  _ his  _ intentions this time might not be so noble.”

The flower-seller set aside his work, sighing.   “Were they ever?   He tends to leave a trail of destruction in his wake when he doesn’t get what he wants.    _ I  _ know that better than anyone.”

Hephaestus dropped some coins into the jar the man was using for payment, taking a rose from one of the bunches.   “Well, I won’t keep you from your work.   I have my own business to attend to that doesn’t require your company.”

The flower-seller didn’t offer a goodbye and instead returned to bundling as Hephaestus set off down the street, following the path Aphrodite and Deathmask had taken a few minutes before.    Although he resumed his work, however, his focus remained elsewhere.

“There’s another competitor, even if he claims otherwise.   But I almost won before- and this time, I will be careful as to avoid letting  _ him  _ intervene.”


	4. Converging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aphrodite and Deathmask are approached by yet another newcomer to the city, and the Sea God searches for information.

Three

 

After roughly half an hour of wandering the streets and considerable bickering with Deathmask on what constituted  _ quality  _ coffee, Aphrodite managed to find a small stall selling frappés and some light pastries.   The two of them settled down on the curb to eat.  

“Honestly,” Deathmask complained around a bite of food, “who did that guy think he was?   For all he knew, we could have been lovers on a walk and he just barged in on it to flirt with you!   I’ve tossed people into Yomotsu Hirasaka for less.”

Aphrodite bit back a laugh- now that the strange events of earlier had passed and been mentally labeled as uncanny but harmless, he was feeling considerably more like himself.  “He probably figured that someone as good looking as me and as scruffy as you could never be together unless I had no taste in men whatsoever.”   _ It’s not the first time he’s made jokes about us dating- he’s been making them since we were old enough to know what dating was, actually.    I never knew if they were just jokes or something more.   _

The former Cancer Saint looked exaggeratedly affronted, placing a hand over his chest in a comical gasp.   “You’ve struck me to the core!  And here I was thinking we were  _ friends _ !”

“It’s payback for all the times you’ve called me a ‘flower-throwing prettyboy’.”   He sipped his coffee and stretched out his legs for a moment, trying to get comfortable against the concrete.  “What are your plans for today?”

“Dunno.”   Deathmask shrugged noncommittally.   “There really isn’t much to do in Sanctuary, I’ll probably stay in the city.”    _ Which probably means he’s going to drink.   I didn’t really expect much better, to be honest- that’s pretty much all he’s been doing.    But I still wish there was more I could do for him- the others don’t come near him so he spends most of his time alone now.   And although he’ll never admit it, we both know I’m about ninety-eight percent of his impulse control.    The least I can do is try to stay with him- I’ve got no plans myself. _

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll join you.   I’ve got nothing to do myself but go back to the Pisces Temple.”    _ Is this really what we’ve come to?   We’ve been stripped of our Cloths, but still allowed to live in Sanctuary to keep up the pretense of having a full contingent of Gold Saints.    That’s not even a kindness, it’s just demoralizing- Sanctuary knows that all we’ve ever had a chance to work for in our lives, all we’re qualified at all for is being Saints.   You don’t have time to go to college or learn a trade or even get a summer job in our position- and we’re totally inexperienced when it comes to all of that even if we could.    We’re expected to fight and die for Athena and that’s meant to be our entire lives planned out without us getting any say in it.   It’s all well and good if that life plan- if we can even call it that- works out, but when it doesn’t and you find yourself having to reevaluate what you’re going to do until you die, that puts you in the position of having to backtrack completely.   But for Deathmask, there’s nothing to backtrack to.    He came to Sanctuary from the streets, where he survived by stealing the bare minimum to keep himself alive.   That’s not a life he can return to, and yet he has no other options… _

Deathmask seemed to sense what he was thinking of and lit a cigarette.  “This is fucking pathetic, isn’t it?    Living on the grace of Sanctuary until they replace us and kick us to the curb?   Where are we supposed to go?   We’ve got no real-world experience beyond childhood- do they expect us to go out and get jobs when our only qualifications for twenty-something years of our lives are running around in goddamn magic armor defending an ancient goddess who according to most people, doesn’t exist?”   He shrugged, blowing a stream of smoke.   “Anyway, don’t suppose you’ve got a plan?”

Aphrodite shook his head.   “Nothing.   But if I figure something out, you’re welcome to come along.”    _ I haven’t thought about saying goodbye to Damiano if we part ways… to be honest, it would probably be better for both of us if wherever we go, I took him with me.    Otherwise, he’s going to get himself killed or sent to prison or worse.   If he wants to, he’s able to take care of himself, but he hasn’t exactly demonstrated that lately, and he had poor impulse control to begin with... _

“May I join you two?”

A short, thickset man leaning on a cane and dressed in a shabby longcoat was addressing the duo from the sidewalk behind them.   In his free hand he held a cup of coffee bearing the logo of the same stall they’d been to.    “I’m new to the city, I was hoping you might be able to offer some tips.”    _ That’s funny, he doesn’t sound new to the city- his Greek is absolutely impeccable.   Although I suppose he might be from another part of the country… or a businessman who’s studied it for years in order to work here efficiently.    I’ve never heard a second-language learner with such an impeccable accent, though.   Neither Damiano nor I can boast of that… I swear, Aiolos must have cried at our pronunciation when we were children. _

“At least you didn’t start the conversation by flirting with Jannik.   Pull up some curb.”   Deathmask gestured to the space beside Aphrodite.    _  He’s not normally so welcoming with strangers, and after the experience we had before, I’d have thought he’d just tell him to fuck off.     But this guy seems harmless, lonely even- almost as though he’s wandering without a direction, like us.   We’re not Saints anymore, and it’s not like we’re somehow better than him even if we were. _

“Much obliged.”   The man sat down next to Aphrodite with a grunt.   “I’ve come here to Athens on some personal business, but I don’t have any ties here save someone who I’m fairly sure doesn’t remember me and a few enemies- it’s been many years since I was last here and I can tell just by looking around that things have changed.”

“You’re the second newcomer to the city we’ve met today,” Aphrodite noted, sipping his coffee.  “There was a flower seller a few minutes ago…”    _  I wonder if they’re connected in any way?   No, don’t think that way- you’ll create conspiracies where there aren’t any.    Expatriates from other countries aren’t so uncommon here that meeting more than one in a day is particularly surprising.    _

The man’s face clouded a bit at his words.  “A flower seller?   That’s… interesting.”

“Annoying is what it was,” Deathmask shot back around his cigarette.   “I can’t go anywhere with Jannik without some dewy-eyed asshole trying to flirt with him.   At this rate, I’m gonna start beating them off with a stick.”

Aphrodite thought he detected a flash of something like sadness in their new companion’s eyes, but it disappeared quickly and his expression shifted to a slightly lopsided but nonetheless amiable smile.   “That must be quite an interesting problem to have- one that I’ve never experienced, I’m afraid.”  He rubbed his unshaven chin with a quiet chuckle.   “I don’t think I quite hold a candle to your friend Jannik there.”

“Thank you, but this is thanks to an hour-long makeup routine,” Aphrodite replied, smiling a bit himself.   “If you saw me first thing in the morning, you and that flower seller might think twice.”

“It’s  _ scary _ ,” Deathmask added helpfully.   “He’s almost unrecognizable.”

After that, the conversation turned to directions, which the pair offered to the best of their ability.   The man seemed to be an agreeable companion, and once some time had passed, revealed a well-developed sense of humor.    _ We rarely meet genuinely friendly civilians in our line of work- it’s either enemies in disguise or someone coming to argue about property damage we caused while fighting said enemies in disguise.    He’s a decent sort, and I suppose it does feel kind of nice to be asked how to get to certain places like a pair of normal people.   I don’t think that’s ever happened before.     _ They talked until they’d finished their coffee, and rose from the curb, preparing to part ways.

“So,” Deathmask asked, putting out his cigarette, “you got all that?”

The man nodded.  “I believe so, thank you both.   I appreciate your help and I wouldn’t mind staying to chat, but I have work to attend to.   Hopefully we might meet again, it was a pleasure making your acquaintances.”   He turned to go, tapping his cane against the pavement and raising his hand in farewell.   “Good day, Damiano and Jannik.”

Both waved goodbye and he limped off, soon disappearing into the crowd.

“He was friendly,” Aphrodite noted.   “And so were you.   That’s not like you, Damiano.”

Deathmask shrugged, looking thoughtful.   “I’m not sure, it’s something about him.   I got a sense he was like us.”

“Like us?  What do you mean by that?”    _ I wasn’t trying to sense his cosmos, but I think I’d recognize him if he was a saint… _

“Someone who’s been seriously screwed over.   An outcast.”  He gave another noncommittal shrug.   “I don’t know, it was just a vibe I got from him.   I was right though, wasn’t I?   He was harmless, just wanted someone to talk to.”

_ Damiano’s not one for gestures of kindness like that… maybe all that’s happened has mellowed him out somewhat.    _  “Fair enough.   What should we do now?”

Deathmask’s face spread into a lazy smile.  “Well, I’ve got no plans and you’ve got no plans… fuck, let’s just enjoy this while it lasts.”

Aphrodite smiled back.  “Fine by me.”   

_ I don’t know why, but I’m starting to get a funny sense that Deathmask and I won’t be taking it easy for long.    It feels like we might be on the verge of something, but I can’t think what.   In the meantime, I’m going to make the most of what peace we have and hope whatever comes is a change for the better. _

\------

The young Japanese teenager who occupied room 331 in Athens’ Laiko General Hospital didn’t hear the two men enter- although he thought perhaps the heavy pain medication he was being treated with might have had a hand in that.     They talked for a few moments in hushed voices between themselves, clearly believing he was asleep.   That wasn’t far from the truth- he was barely conscious.   He’d been lucky, the paramedics said- it was a medical miracle.    _ No one  _ lost that much blood from their heart and survived.   It was unheard of.    Not to mention how such a thing had happened to begin with- how did someone so young end up brought to an Athens hospital by a mysterious benefactress who quickly assured that any and all bills would be taken care of.   It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Are you sure asking him is a good idea, Mr. Solo?”   The shorter of the two men, with feathered light indigo locks, leaned closer to his companion.  “He’s barely alive- do you really think he can inform us on the reincarnation of the goddess’ whereabouts?”

“We have to try, Sorrento.    I have to know.”   The other man, Solo, had curly hair the very color of the sea off of Greece’s coast which he wore long down his back, and something in his features commanded respect.   The young man had seen that look before, in the eyes of the woman who was paying for his treatment, and sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of it in his own features when he looked in the mirror.   

Sorrento nodded slightly.   “As you wish, my liege.”

Here, Solo raised his voice to a volume where it was intended that the young man in the bed would hear it.   “Are you awake?”

He gave a weak nod in response from his slumped position.

Solo flashed Sorrento a grin of something like triumph.   “See?   He’s responsive.  Now,” he continued, taking a step closer to the bed, “I’m going to need your help in finding someone.”


End file.
